


Your eyes are like starlight now

by Roxie Ann (pluvial_poetry)



Category: Roswell (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Yuletide 2010
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-19
Updated: 2010-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-13 19:08:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pluvial_poetry/pseuds/Roxie%20Ann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael stargazes more than the average teenage boy, which might be odd unless you take into account the fact that he's actually an alien from another planet. And then it makes complete sense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your eyes are like starlight now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aerowyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerowyn/gifts).



Michael stargazes more than the average teenage boy, which might be odd unless you take into account the fact that he's actually an alien from another planet. And then it makes complete sense.

The constellations are all familiar. Max and Isabel had learned them all from a book the Evans's had bought them when they were kids. Every star's name and every story about them. They taught it all to Michael. In November there'll be Cassiopeia and Cepheus, Pisces and Perseus. But he's always been drawn to Andromeda because she was left behind and chained to a rock. He can relate.

Michael's been standing out here for hours. A couple of miles west of the trailer park, the middle of nothing. He feels like he's waiting, like he's always been waiting, and he's tired of it. But he can't stop.

Of course that's when Max shows up.

Michael hears the jeep coming, so he doesn't react when it pulls up next to him and Max steps out.

"I thought I'd find you here." Max says, and it's just the sort of statement that Michael wishes he could call bull but if anyone could find him in the middle of the desert at night, it would be Max.

"Shooting star." Is all Michael says, and they both track the path of the star across the sky. He wonders how many shooting stars he must have watched over the years, waiting for one that wouldn't be a star. One that would come down the way he and Max and Isabel must have.

"Did you make a wish?" Max leans into Michael's side, solid and warm. It's colder than Michael wants to admit to himself. He doesn't want to have a reason to go back.

"Wishing won't get us home, Maxwell." He says it with a sneer. Michael knows without looking at him, that Max is frowning. And he knows the lecture that Max is gearing up to give by heart, so he cuts him off.

"This isn't our home. Not for me." Michael doesn't mention Hank, and he doesn't mention the ache in his ribs. He doesn't need to.

Now Michael does look at him and Max has that look on his face like he's feeling sorry for him, like he knows how Michael's been waiting. So Michael kisses him. He kisses him and kisses him, and he can't stop. Even when Max closes his eyes and they stay closed. Michael keeps kissing him. He licks at the seam of Max's lips until they part and let Michael inside, where it's warm. And it's not something that they do often because Michael would never admit that he needs this. He doesn't make wishes that won't come true. But sometimes he just has to feel something, any kind of release, and everything for them is easier together than it is apart.

He presses Max against the hood of the Jeep. Max goes easily, spreading his legs to let Michael stand between them. Michael wants to peel the sweater off of Max, wants warm skin against him. But he settles for this. Pulling away far enough to pop the buttons on Max's jeans, breaking the kiss only long enough to lick his palm and slide it into Max's boxers. He's only half-hard in Michael's hand. But it only takes a couple of strokes to get him all the way there, bucking against him, less kissing now and more just panting against Michael's mouth.

Michael brings him off quickly, jacking him hard and fast. His own erection is pressing uncomfortably against the confines of his jeans, but he doesn't touch himself. At this point he won't need to. Max's soft grunts as Michael smears precome around the head of his cock are doing all the work for him. Michael is so close. It isn't long before his balls tighten up and he comes, his hand squeezing down tight on Max's dick. Max gasps and his release spills over Michael's hand.

They stand there, breathing hard and still pressed together.

Eventually Max opens his eyes again.

"We should get back." Max says, buttoning up his pants. Michael nods. He'll go back to the Evans's with Max, because Max wants him to. He wasn't expecting anything else. And he can't keep waiting out here.

He climbs into the Jeep, wiping at the front of his jeans, damp and cooling.

"Did I tell you I talked to Liz Parker today?" Max asks.

Michael snorts. "Let me guess. She needed to borrow a pencil?"

Max starts the ignition but pauses before putting the Jeep into drive to shove at Michael's arm.

"She asked me if I knew what the homework was for Delmonte's class."

Michael looks up at the sky. "It must be love." He says.

He looks up at Andromeda. Arms outstretched and hands chained as they drive back into Roswell.

 

//////////////////

 

They rent a house in Mexico, a white hacienda on the beach. It's probably the only thing the six of them agreed on the whole time they’d been on the run. They were from Roswell, they’d been raised in the desert. They went to the ocean. Every room has picture windows and a view that's worth more than the house. Where blue water meets with blue sky until Michael can’t tell which is which. And even with what little money they have, it's still bigger and better than anything Michael had ever thought he’d have.

Of course, he never could have imagined any of this. Even having lived through it, he still isn't sure how they ended up here.

He's with Maria now. Liz and Max are still newly-wedded and annoying about it. Isabel and Kyle have gone into town to buy supplies.

So Michael and Maria go down to the beach. Spend the whole day in the water and on the sand.

By now the sun's set and the stars have come out. They're still spread out on the beach. Neither one wants the day to end.

"Michael. You're not even listening to me." Maria says, and she's right, he hadn't been.

"If you know I'm not listening to you then why are you still talking?" He asks.

There was a time when a statement like that would have lead to a huge fight and that time probably hasn't passed yet. But he doesn't really want to piss her off because they'd been having a good time and he doesn't want her to leave. So he pulls her feet into his lap and rubs them gently because she's a sucker for that kind of thing.

He's used this kind of play before, Maria will know exactly what he's doing. But she just rolls her eyes and lets him.

Mostly to distract her, he points up at the sky and says, "You see that bright star? It's Andromeda. She was chained to a rock and left for dead."

She lies back on the sand, slow and drowsy. "What happened to her?" Maria asks, and she's looking at him, not up at the sky. Her eyes are bright.

"She got rescued." He says. And it's not like he's going to start writing poetry about it or something. But he thinks that if he has anything familiar anymore, anything that he could call home, it would be Maria. He isn't waiting anymore, and he doesn't have to. She rescued him.

He leans forward, kisses her knees and it's both salty and sweet. She parts her legs and he kneels up to move between them, his hands sliding up her calves to stroke at the soft skin of her thighs, pushing her skirt up high. She props herself up on her elbows, her mouth searching for and catching his. They kiss lazily and deeply. This part has always been simple for them, and still is, because they have nothing but time.

She sighs when he slides a finger into her. He'd known that she'd be wet and warm but he just can't help teasing her. She's shoving at his shorts, manages to get them down around his knees without their mouths breaking contact. He keeps kissing her deeply, and his hips match the movement as he fucks into her. He knows her, knows what she likes. He doesn't need to waste time getting her off. He rubs his thumb over her clit and she tightens around him. He wants her trembling and gasping against him. And then she is, and that's what sets him off, buried deep inside of her. He pulls away from her mouth to press his face in her hair and breathe.

He rolls them both over after a minute and it makes her laugh. And he laughs too, because he's actually happy with the ocean rolling next to them and the sky blanketing them.

Maria laughs again suddenly, and exclaims, "Shooting star! Make a wish!"

He watches it fall and doesn't wish for anything.

He turns to her. "Maria." He says and can't say anything else. He's looking into her eyes and all he can see are stars.


End file.
